The Spanish Super Cup final in Jeddah was never just another Clásico. It was a verdict.
For the
second consecutive season, Real Madrid were undone by Barcelona, falling 3–2
under the Saudi lights at Alinma Bank Stadium. On paper, it was a narrow
defeat. In reality, it was the culmination of a flawed idea, tactical,
psychological, and structural. Less than 24 hours later, Xabi Alonso was gone.
The club
called it a “mutual agreement.” History will call it something else: an
admission that elegance alone does not govern the Bernabéu.
The
Night Madrid Lost Its Shape
Alonso’s
final act was emblematic of his tenure, brave in conception, brittle in
execution. For the first time this season, Madrid defended in a back five, with
Aurélien Tchouaméni converted into a third centre-back. The idea was
understandable. The outcome was inevitable.
Tchouaméni,
for all his intelligence, is not a central defender built to absorb prolonged
pressure from elite forwards like Robert Lewandowski or wide attackers like
Raphinha. He has been exposed there before. This was not innovation; it was
denial.
Worse
still, the defensive reconfiguration hollowed out the midfield. A backline
patched together with midfielders and inexperienced defenders collapsed not
only under Barcelona’s pressure, but under its own imbalance. Madrid did not
merely defend poorly; they disconnected themselves from the game.
This is
where Alonso’s philosophy collapsed. His Madrid were meant to be lethal in
transition, powered by the speed of Vinícius Júnior and Rodrygo. But
transitions require a bridge. And that bridge once bore the names of Toni Kroos
and Luka Modrić. Without them, Madrid’s buildup often died at first touch,
possession surrendered before momentum could even form.
Alonso
asked his players to play chess without a board.
The
Mbappé Paradox: Star Power Without Structure
Nothing
captures Madrid’s current contradiction more starkly than Kylian Mbappé.
At 29 goals
for the season, Mbappé remains devastating. Yet Madrid are, uncomfortably, more
cohesive without him. When a natural striker like Gonzalo García leads the
line, the geometry of the attack improves. Defenders are pinned. Vinícius gains space. The box becomes occupied rather than ornamental.
Mbappé, by
contrast, too often drifts to the edge of the penalty area, static, expectant,
detached from the game’s pulse unless the ball arrives perfectly at his feet.
Stop Vinícius on the left, and Madrid’s attack collapses into predictability.
The answer
is not to bench Mbappé. It is to redefine him. Arbeloa must demand that
Madrid’s most luminous star rediscover the instincts of a true No. 9, movement
without the ball, aggression between centre-backs, discomfort imposed rather
than avoided. Without that evolution, Madrid will continue to win matches but
lose finals.
Valverde
and the Myth of Infinite Utility
Federico
Valverde has become Madrid’s universal solvent, right-back, winger, midfielder, and emergency defender. Against Barcelona, he was everywhere and nowhere. Nine
completed passes in 68 minutes is not versatility; it is disappearance.
Valverde’s
gift has never been volume, but direction: diagonals that stretch play, carries
that ignite transitions, energy that reshapes tempo. Used as a plug rather than
a pillar, he solves nothing. If Arbeloa wants balance, Valverde must return to
being a midfielder first, a solution second.
Even
Thibaut Courtois completing more progressive passes than Madrid’s No. 8 should
sound alarm bells inside Valdebebas.
Why
Arbeloa Is Not Alonso and Why That Matters
The irony
is striking: no player shared more minutes with Alonso than Álvaro Arbeloa.
Across club and country, they spent over 20,000 minutes together on the pitch.
Yet Arbeloa is not Alonso’s continuation. He is his counterpoint.
Alonso
arrived with a pedigree, Bundesliga champion, tactical modernist,
Guardiola-adjacent. Arbeloa arrives with something Madrid has always valued
just as much: institutional memory and moral authority.
His
coaching education is rooted in Madrid’s academy, shaped by the unforgiving clarity of youth football. Win duels. Create chances. Suffer together. His
philosophical idols reveal more. From José Mourinho, he absorbed siege
mentality and absolute loyalty to the squad. From Carlo Ancelotti, he learned
man-management without softness, structure without suffocation.
Unlike
Alonso’s preference for back threes and positional rigidity, Arbeloa’s teams
default to a 4-3-3 or 4-4-2 system woven into Madrid’s modern identity. High
pressing. Vertical intent. Emotional intensity.
“We don’t
go out just to win,” Arbeloa once said. “We go out to fulfil a dream: to play
for Real Madrid.”
That
sentence alone explains why he was chosen.
The
Weight of the Badge
Madrid did
not dismiss Alonso because he lost a final. They dismissed him because his
Madrid did not feel like Madrid.
Arbeloa’s
appointment is not romantic nostalgia. It is a wager that clarity can
outperform complexity, that belief can repair imbalance, and that demanding
football, played at full throttle from minute one to ninety, still matters in an
era of systems and schemes.
His first
test comes against Albacete in the Copa del Rey. His real test will come later,
when the margins tighten, and the noise grows louder.
At Real
Madrid, eras do not end quietly. They end under floodlights, against Barcelona,
with the truth laid bare.
Jeddah was
that moment.
Now begins
Arbeloa’s reckoning.
Thank You
Faisal Caesar
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